


Cursed Witches and Demonic Fathers, Oh Dear.

by E_Salvatore



Series: Of Angels, Demons, and Everything in Between [2]
Category: Tanis (Podcast), The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Charmed AU, F/M, Gen, a bunch more friendships and possible ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-02 12:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: It's been six months since Alex Reagan met Richard Strand and landed herself on the Source of All Evil's bad side.Things are... okay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re unfamiliar with Charmed, need a refresher or would like to have some idea of what’s going on before you dive into this monster, [here's a cheat sheet.](http://esalvatore3.tumblr.com/post/143328929469/something-wicca-this-way-comes-cheat-sheet)

“Oh, fuck. Please tell me he did _not_ just run into the market.”

Adding a demon to the madness that is Pike Place on a Saturday afternoon sounds like the worst idea anyone in the world could ever come up with. Sadly, Alex has no one but herself to blame for accidentally chasing the demon into the crowded market.

Well, she _could_ blame Strand, but she doesn’t think they’re quite at that level of friendship yet.

“I don’t see him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he went in,” Strand reasons hopefully as he scrutinizes the crowd. “Even if he did, I don’t think we should follow him.”

Alex abandons her own survey of the masses to shoot Strand an incredulous look. “Are you suggesting that we let a demon roam freely at a farmer’s market?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think he plans to terrorize anyone other than us. The most likely outcome would be for him to wait long enough to make sure we’re gone before he leaves as well. If we were to chase after him and provoke him into starting a fight, there’s no telling what kind of harm might come to the bystanders.”

If someone had told her six months ago that her latest Innocent was a demon who would end up landing both of them on the Source’s to-kill list and then occasionally partner up with her to take down demonic bounty hunters, Alex would have rolled her eyes and asked Nic just what kind of _herbal tea_ he had brewed this time.

But here she is, chasing down yet another demon with Richard Strand before the demon gets the chance to ambush either of them separately.

“Okay,” Alex decides after a moment’s thought. “You’re right, we can’t risk him-”

And that’s when the demon suddenly appears five feet behind Strand.

Her hand reaches for his immediately to pull him away from their opponent while her eyes scan their surroundings to find either a weapon or a better place to move this confrontation to. It’d be easy to blend into the crowd and make a run for it, but they’d have to run for blocks to find anywhere remotely abandoned enough to have this fight.

Of course the demon doesn’t share her concerns, and Alex sees him begin to raise his hand in the familiar fireball-summoning motion she dreads. “Okay,” She secures her grip on Strand’s hand and keeps her eyes on the demon while she talks to him, slowly walking them backwards. “We’re gonna run away from the market, blend into the crowd, and find somewhere quiet enough to get the hell out of here without anyone noticing. Ready?”

She doesn’t wait for Strand to answer, trusting him to go along with her plan even if he doesn’t particularly agree with it. He comes willingly enough when she pulls his hand and starts running, and Alex doesn’t look back to see his reaction to this turn of events, nor does she turn back to check on the demon.

It doesn’t take long for them to find a reasonably secluded dark corner, and Strand shimmers them away without her having to ask. They land in a vaguely familiar alley she must’ve been to before, judging by the scorch marks on one of the dumpsters.

“Good choice,” Alex says as they take a moment to catch their breath, knowing that it won’t be long before the demon tracks them. She pats the inner pockets of her jacket to make sure the potions are still there and unharmed, and retrieves one just to be prepared. “So you zap him first, then I throw the potion?”

“Ideally we would act simultaneously, but I should be able to maintain the _zap_ long enough for you to throw the potion at him,” Strand tells her, lips twitching with amusement at her terminology.

The demon shimmers in shortly after, and the second it takes for him to realize he’s landed with his back to his opponents is all it takes for Strand to attack him with long, crackling bolts of electricity that effectively render him paralyzed. Alex wastes no time jumping forward with the potion, careful to throw it from as close a distance as she can safely manage.

The ground starts sizzling just as Strand calls off his attack, and Alex makes her way back to his side as the demon begins to burn. With his dying breath, he hurls the same accusation at Strand as all their previous targets.

“Traitor!”

Strand doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even grimace the way he had the first few times they’d done this. His face remains an inscrutable mask as he watches the demon – his own kind – burn away into nothingness, and he doesn’t say a word as he turns his back on the scene and walks out of the alley. Alex follows him because there’s no reason not to, but she can’t think of a single thing to say as they make their way back to the shop. By the time she spots the familiar storefront, Strand still hasn’t said a word about lunch or asked her about her plans for the rest of the day, so she gathers that he won’t be coming in.

At the door, before he can walk to his car parked across the street, Alex offers him a small smile. “Good work today, partner.”

And then, before Strand can react, her brain catches up to her mouth and she finds herself rambling. “I mean, temporary partner. You know, since Nic is too busy to go demon-hunting this week and it’s just you and me and we’ve been working together to-”

Strand smiles. “We make a good team,” He says, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder. “What is Nic doing this week, by the way? It’s unusual for him to leave you unaccompanied, isn’t it?”

“I mean, you’re around so I’m not exactly unaccompanied,” Alex points out. “He’s with Amalia.”

“Has something happened to her?” It’s kind of cute, actually, to see how Strand’s brows furrow just the slightest bit at the possibility that something might be wrong with the cat who walks away whenever he’s around.

“Amalia’s fine,” She quickly assures him. “Just, you know, adjusting to being human again.”

“She’s _what_?”

And that’s when Alex remembers that they never did get around to telling Strand the truth about Amalia.

 

 

 

“Where the hell is the measuring tape in this place?” Alex finds herself huffing two days later, slamming yet another drawer shut. It’s been three days since Amalia’s curse was suddenly and unexpectedly lifted, and today’s the day they’re going to introduce her to the wonders of online shopping. Since the once-cat refuses to venture into the outside world just yet, it’s the best way to get her proper clothes that aren’t about four inches too short or three sizes too big.

Amalia strides across the counter and immediately locates the tape; sometimes it’s hard for Alex to remember that she’s lived here longer than anyone else, that she knows this place better than Nic and Alex ever might. “Here you go,” She drapes the tape around Alex’s neck with a smile and produces a piece of scrap paper and a pen seemingly out of thin air. “Shall we begin?”

“Right,” Alex says, pulling up the article she’d bookmarked specifically for this. Of the seven areas highlighted in the diagram, the bust happens to come first. “Um,” She holds the tape up to Amalia’s chest. “I’m gonna have to- I mean, is it okay if-”

“Oh, Alexandra,” Amalia laughs, holding her arms slightly apart and indicating for Alex to go ahead. “This is hardly my first fitting, and I dare say it will be much more comfortable with you than it used to be with the village seamstress.”

“Village, huh?” The younger witch asks distractedly as she jots a number down on the piece of paper. “You know, I still can’t believe you somehow travelled from a Russian village all the way to Seattle, in cat form.”

Amalia quirks an eyebrow. “And yet you have no trouble believing that I was cursed in an attempt to prevent a brotherhood of murderous monks from calling forth an army of demons.”

“I mean,” Alex shrugs as she moves on to Amalia’s waist. “Demons? We see one every other day. But cats travelling from one continent to another in the early 1800s entirely on their own? You’re the only one I know of.”

Nic suddenly appears from the backroom with a wooden spoon in one hand and a steaming bowl of liquid cradled in the other. “I think my favorite part of the story is still the evil warlock who ended up doing your work for you.”

Alex looks up from the next set of instructions on her laptop screen. “Wait, which part was this again? I don’t remember hearing about it.”

“Oh,” Amalia says, sharing a smile with Nic. “I just told Nic about it yesterday while you were away. When a warlock caught me wandering around the Underworld, he assumed that I was there to hunt a specific target or cause trouble of some sort.”

“It’s a fair assumption,” Alex comments as she circles the tape around Amalia’s hips.

“I suppose it is,” The former cat concedes. “But in my opinion, he completely overreacted. He threatened me, so of course I attacked him. Then he decided to turn me into a cat instead of fighting me the way any respectable warlock would have. He mistakenly assumed that I had come through the nearest gateway, and told me he would seal it so that no one would ever be able to come through ever again.”

Alex drops the tape to gape at Amalia. “Wait, is this _the_ gateway? The one the monks were going to use?”

“The exact one,” Amalia grins. “He threw me out and sealed the gateway for good, much better than I could have. I suppose he did me a favor, in a way, but he _did_ also turn me into a cat for nearly four hundred years.”

“Well,” Nic says as he sets his bowl down on the counter and crosses the room to get a few empty jars, “he’s dead now, so it’s not like you can hunt him down to get revenge or something.”

Amalia sighs. “No, I suppose not,” She says, adjusting her stance as Alex measures her legs. “Though I would like to know how and when he died. The curse was so old that it must have taken quite a while after his death for the magic to break.”

“With the amount of demons and warlocks we’ve taken down in the past few months,” Alex straightens up and begins to wind the measuring tape around her index finger, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of them. It’s starting to feel like the entire Underworld is after our heads.”

“Ours, or just Strand’s?” Nic asks as he ladles the potion into four jars. “Because if you’re gonna send a demon to avenge another demon’s death, I feel like you’d just stop after the fourth or fifth time you lost another one. But if the Source’s goal is to get Strand back into the Underworld, it would make sense for him to keep this up indefinitely.”

She’s never really thought of it this way, but Alex supposes Nic’s theory does make more sense than the Source wasting six months and a whole laundry list of demons and warlocks just to avenge Thomas Warren. “It doesn’t really matter though, does it?” She asks Nic. “Even if we stop attacking them, they’re not going to stop coming after us. They’ll probably try to use us to get to Strand.”

“As if you would leave him to handle the demons on his own,” Amalia mutters as she picks up the measuring tape from Alex and puts it back in its rightful place.

“What was that?"

Amalia offers her a bright, innocent smile. “Nothing!” She fakes a yawn as she heads for the stairs that lead to the apartment upstairs. “I think I’m going to take a nap now. Old habits die hard. Wake me for dinner!”

Alex stares at the back of her retreating form with a scowl. “What the hell was that about?” She turns to ask Nic.

“Just that, you know,” Nic shrugs, “You and Strand are pretty close these days. There’s no way you’d just bow out and let him handle the Source’s wrath on his own.”

“He’s one of the most powerful demons around,” Alex reminds him as she copies Amalia’s measurements down on her laptop. “He can handle himself.”

Nic sticks a chalkboard label on each jar and roots around a messy drawer for his chalks. “Yeah, but you’d worry too much to leave him to his own devices. And before you try to deny it, remember that I’ve known you for most of our lives and Amalia has known you since you were in your mother’s womb.”

“You’re one to talk,” Alex scoffs. “Don’t forget that I’ve known _you_ for most of our lives, and I know that look you get when you think she’s not watching you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nic mumbles, eyes firmly fixed on his stupid chalks and the dust they leave all over the counter. She misses his calligraphy phase; that required little to no clean-up and they didn’t have to deal with customers accidentally smudging the labels.

Alex crosses her arms, taps her left foot in a measured beat, and stares at Nic until he gives in and looks at her. “ _What_?” He demands.

“She was our childhood pet, Nic. Don’t you think that’s the slightest bit messed up?”

“And he’s your Whitelighter’s demonic husband,” Nic retorts. “How messed up is _that_?”

They glare at each other for the longest moment until –

“Keep each other’s secret and never talk about it again?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

 

 

 

Unfortunately, her totally non-existent thing with Strand seems to be less of a secret than Alex would like it to be.

It’s a quiet Wednesday afternoon when Nic finally convinces Amalia to venture out for a quick walk, just up and down the street and maybe a brief stop at the ice cream place around the corner if she feels up to it. Amalia nearly talks herself out of her decision four times, but eventually the door closes behind them and Alex watches their retreating forms until they’re out of sight. It takes a while for her to realize that they’ve left her alone with Strand, who’s sitting behind the counter and entirely focused on his laptop. It doesn’t look like he’ll be engaging her in conversation any time soon, so Alex resigns herself to mind-numbing boredom as she restocks the crystal display. If her eyes occasionally find their way to Strand every once in a while… well, it’s not like anyone’s around to give her shit for it.

“So… did I miss anything?”

Except apparently Alex has been so focused – _too_ focused, really – on Strand that she completely failed to hear the telltale sounds of an orb, and now here stands Cora with her eyes twinkling and a teasing grin on her face.

“Cora!” Alex exclaims, half reprimand for the shock she’d caused her, half exuberant greeting for the woman she’s barely seen in the past six months. She drops her handful of crystals to pull the Whitelighter into a hug. “You’re back!”

“I’ve missed you too,” Cora says as her arms wrap around Alex, engulfing her in a warm, familiar blanket of comfort. “So,” She whispers conspiratorially into Alex’s ears, thankfully lowering her voice as Strand approaches, “did I just catch you making heart eyes at my widower?”

Alex steps away. “Oh, come _on_ ,” She huffs, crossing her arms with a frown. “Not you too.”

“I’m just saying,” Cora shrugs, “Nic can be a very perceptive man sometimes. In all matters except those related to himself, that is.”

She drops the subject as Strand joins them. “Coralee,” He says with a nod.

“Hello, Richard. Fancy seeing you here.”

“There was an… incident in my office yesterday,” Strand explains, grimacing slightly at the memory of their latest bounty hunter, a lesser demon who had melted into one of his rugs instead of burning up as most demons do. “It requires a lot of cleaning and airing out. Alex was kind enough to let me work here in the meantime.”

Cora scrunches up her nose. “Do I want to know?”

“You really don’t,” Alex quickly assures her, to which Strand can only nod repeatedly. “What matters is that the demon’s dead, and the rug has been set on fire and will never be seen or smelled again.”

“All right then,” Cora says slowly. “Moving on. Can we talk? I have news about Charlie.”

Alex backs away slightly. “I’ll just give you two some space. I should go check on that potion Nic left brewing in the backroom anyway.”

“Actually,” Cora’s hand reaches for her wrist, keeping her from making a quick escape. “I’d rather you stay here, Alex. I have a favor to ask of you and Nic.”

“Of course,” Alex agrees reflexively, “anything you need. But is everything okay?” She can’t think of any non-magical favor Cora might need, and it’s rarely a good sign when someone needs magical assistance.

Cora drops her hand once she’s sure Alex isn’t going anywhere. “Charlie’s all right,” She quickly reassures Alex and – more importantly – an anxious Strand. “I’d just like to get some protective charms for her, in case anyone tries to target her again. She’s tough, but there’s only so much a person can do when faced with a demon.”

“Her powers are still dormant, then,” Strand surmises, his even tone giving nothing away.

“By choice,” Cora informs him. “She knows about you – figured everything out on her own a few years ago, somehow – and she knows what that means for her. But she’s been very careful not to wake that part of herself.”

It’s probably physically impossible for someone like Strand to look like a kicked puppy, but he comes pretty damn close to it in Alex’s opinion. “Is she… I mean, does she hate- How does…” He pauses, picks at his sleeve, clears his throat. “How does she feel about… all of this?”

Cora’s face looks softer, somehow, and her voice turns into something quiet and reassuring. “You can ask her yourself at dinner tomorrow.”

Strand looks up so quickly that it’s a miracle he doesn’t hurt his neck somehow. “She wants to see me?” He asks, voice hushed in something akin to awe. Cora moves closer to Strand – probably to comfort him – and Alex takes that as her cue to quietly remove herself from a conversation she should never have been a part of in the first place. She can discuss a list of charms, and maybe even spells, with Cora later, when the coast is clear and she isn’t intruding on a private moment between two parents.

Before she slips into the backroom, Alex gets one last look at Strand and Cora – she’s taken his hands in hers, and they wear matching small smiles that speak of cautious hope and second chances. And it doesn’t matter that she feels _something_ whenever she’s with Strand, that Nic and Amalia are convinced they’re more than just friends, that sometimes it almost seems like this thing might not be as one-sided as she’s convinced herself it is – none of that matters to Alex when faced with this image of Strand and Cora looking so right together.

She gets to work on bottling the pot of potion Nic had left to cool, all the while picturing herself bottling up her feelings and setting them aside as well.

 

 

 

Friday afternoon finds Alex working on the shop’s best-selling tea blends, with herbs, flowers, and labelled jars waiting to be filled taking up every last inch of the counter. The clock perched right above the front door tells her it’s nearly one in the afternoon, which means Strand should be here any minute now to take her to lunch and tell her all about last night’s family dinner.

“Hey, Nic? Would you mind finishing up the teas? Strand should be here soon,” She calls across the shop, where Nic is putting the finishing touches on a new display by the window.

“Yeah, sure,” He agrees easily as he joins her by the counter. “You’ve got everything measured out?”

“Almost,” Alex says, handing him an empty bowl. “Can you go get more magnolias? I ran out of them a while ago.”

Nic takes the bowl and heads to the backroom, leaving Alex on her own when the door opens and an unfamiliar man steps in. Theirs is a business supported almost entirely by regulars, but they’ve been seeing some new faces ever since Nic set up a website a few weeks ago.

“Hi! Can I help you?” Alex offers the man a bright smile as he approaches the counter. Up close, he looks much younger than she’d expected him to; he can’t be any older than twenty, and even that would surprise her. But then he starts speaking, and there’s something _ancient_ in his voice.

His smile sends chills down her spine. “Hello, Alex. Is the Advocate here yet?”

She won’t even bother asking how he knows her name; one look at his eyes is all Alex needs to know that everything about the boy’s appearance is deceptive, and his mortal façade hides something much older and wiser. “Who is the Advocate?” Alex asks instead, silently praying Nic will stay out of sight until she’s dealt with their visitor.

“Our mutual friend, of course,” The demon – because nothing else would unsettle her quite this way, not so quickly and so thoroughly - says absently, looking around the store with sharp eyes that linger on the wall separating them from Nic a little too long for Alex’s comfort. “No, that’s not him,” He murmurs to himself with a frown. “I guess I’m a few minutes too early. It’s just hard to keep track of time sometimes, you know? I almost wish time were as linear as some of you humans think it is.”

It takes a while for Alex to process what the demon is implying. “Wait, are you saying you can travel-”

She’s interrupted by the welcome arrival of Strand, who has a much better shot at handling a fellow demon than an unprepared witch.

“Simon.” The door closes behind him, shoulders tense and eyes focused on the stranger. He makes no move to approach either her or the demon, who merely turns around at the sound of what Alex presumes to be his own name.

“Hello, Advocate,” Simon says in an almost pleasant-sounding drawl. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Strand ignores the pleasantries. “Why are you here?”

“Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just here to deliver a message, as always,” Simon announces as he drifts towards the far end of the counter, picking up a bowl of dried thyme as if to inspect it. “First of all, there’s been a horrible misunderstanding. All of those bounty hunters you’ve been dealing with? Enterprising free agents,” He says with a dismissive wave. “The Source never ordered anyone to come after you.”

“What made them decide to hunt me now, after all this time?” Strand asks as he slowly makes his way towards Alex, keeping a careful eye on Simon all the while.

“Word got out that the Source wants to see you, and they assumed that they would be paid handsomely for bringing you to him – alive, of course,” Simon adds with an amused curve of his lips.

When Strand finally joins her behind the counter, she feels the reassuring presence of his hand on her back. “Why now?” He asks Simon, who has set the bowl back in its rightful place and is now flipping through a prop grimoire filled with made-up incantations. “The Source hasn’t felt the need to seek me out in decades.”

“He just wants to talk, is all. Oh, look at this cute little devil-summoning spell,” Simon holds the book up for them to see, pointing at the page in concern. “Do kids actually try this?”

Strand stares him down until Simon sets the book aside with a heavy sigh. “All right, I’ll be serious now. The truth is I don’t know why he wants to talk to you after all this time. Maybe he wants to punish you for killing Warren. Maybe he wants to reward you for killing Warren. It could be anything. All I know is that he wants to see you, and I have been sent to pass that message to you. I will not drag you back with me, nor will I threaten you into coming along. Are you happy now?”

“But _why_?” Strand demands half-heartedly, already knowing he won’t get any more information out of Simon.

Simon finally gives Strand his full attention, and his smile sets both Alex and Strand on edge. There’s a hint of anticipation there, the kind of glee and satisfaction that can only come from setting something disastrous into motion.

”Does he really need a reason to want to see you? You should know better than most the pain a father feels when he’s been separated from his child for so long.”

Strand’s hand falls away from Alex’s back, and her gut flips as Simon’s smile widens.

“I’ll be on my way now,” He says, even going so far as to pat Strand on the shoulder when he walks by; Alex knows something is truly wrong when Strand doesn’t even tense at the unwanted contact. “Do pay your old man a visit, Advocate. It’s getting tiresome to listen to him go on and on about you.”

And with that, Simon disappears into thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way too long (and TOOK way too long, am I right, people who asked for a sequel back in April 2016???) but here it is, the first of three chapters. I hope y'all like it.
> 
> Also, [here's a deleted scene.](http://esalvatore3.tumblr.com/post/167418609314/cursed-witches-and-demonic-fathers-oh-dear)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor's Advent Calendar Challenge: join me as I attempt to carry out My Worst Idea Ever and write something new every single day from now until Christmas. This is Day 3.

Nic appears approximately three seconds later, multiple vials clutched in his hands and more yet sticking out from the pockets of his jeans.

“What the hell just happened?”

Alex doesn’t really know what to tell him – doesn’t know if it’s hers to tell even if she had the words to. She turns to Strand, who’s still staring blankly at the spot Simon had occupied up until a few seconds ago when he quite literally walked out of reality. It’s unlike any mode of transportation Alex has ever seen, and a shiver races down her spine when she considers the fact that even Strand shimmers, despite being one of the most powerful demons around. So what the hell does that make Simon?

“For future reference,” Strand’s voice pulls Alex away from the newfound horrors in her mind, and she snaps back into the present to find him talking to Nic and his five hundred potions. “None of those would have worked on him.”

“ _None_ of them?” Nic asks, voice something between a wail and a whine. Alex recognizes some of the vials he’d chosen to arm himself with as his most powerful potions; if even those wouldn’t have helped him, then yeah, she completely understands the poorly-concealed fear in his voice. “Who the hell is this guy? _What_ is he?”

Strand sinks into a nearby chair with a heavier-than-usual sigh. “He’s known as the Mediator. Most consider him to be one of the most important beings in the world.”

“That sounds… serious,” Alex finally says for lack of a more succinct reaction.

“So is his job,” Strand replies. For a moment there is only silence, punctuated every so often by the soft _clink_ of glass against metal as Nic begins to part with his potions. By the time Strand has decided to elaborate, Alex’s mind has already taken off at a hundred miles an hour, contemplating possibilities that probably aren’t even possible.

“Just as there is black, white, and shades of grey, there is your world, my world, and a hundred dimensions in between,” Strand’s words are infused with an unusual quality, half university lecturer and half ancient storyteller; Alex ignores the untimely urge to take notes or turn on her recorder. “Simon is the only one who can walk between all the worlds – all of them at once. Are there multiple Simons scattered across the universes? Has he simply studied all of the different ways time runs in different worlds and managed to make it appear as if he can be everywhere at once? Sometimes I think even he doesn’t know the answer to that. But the important thing is that he _is_ everywhere at once – or some version of him, at least – and that means he can observe them all, hold them back whenever someone decides they’d like to visit our worlds, talk them out of their plans and into some semblance of peace.”

“So without Simon…” Nic seems at a loss for words to adequately describe the horror.

“Without Simon, there would be no one to guard the doors between this world and a hundred thousand hells,” Strand sums up with the ease of someone who’s had millennia to wrap their mind around this nightmare.

Nic gathers up his potions and heads for the back. “Okay, I don’t think I can live with this knowledge so I’m gonna go… come up with some kind of memory tea or something.”

“Congrats, you just broke Nic,” Alex quips as she heaves herself up on the counter. “So… are you gonna go visit the Source anytime soon?” She asks tentatively, leaving out the part where the Source of All Evil is apparently Strand’s father.

“I don’t see why I should,” Strand says without a moment’s pause. “Even if he _is_ my… even if what Simon says is true, I haven’t seen him in decades. Why summon me now? Why the sudden show of paternal instincts?”

Alex weighs her next words carefully. “ _Do_ you think Simon’s telling the truth? I mean, if the Source kept this from you, why tell Simon?”

Strand puffs out a laugh in that odd, barely-there way of his. “If the Source had it his way, I doubt even Simon would know. As with all things, Simon just… _knows_. He always knows everything.”

“That sounds useful,” And terrifying, but there’s no point in worrying over something she has no control over. She’ll definitely be looking up the Mediator sometime in the near future, though. And while she’s at it- “Why did Simon call you the Advocate?”

The little smirk this draws from Strand is an unexpected sight. “I trust you’re familiar with the term _devil’s advocate_.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Everything has to come from somewhere, of course,” He shrugs. “In this case, it just so happens that I’ve been playing right-hand man to the Source for so long that it gave some people ideas. For mortals, it’s easy enough to force someone to obey your will so long as they know you hold all the power. For immortal demons, however, the smarter move is to make your will theirs, to ensure their continued loyalty century after century. The Source came up with all the plans, but I was the one in charge of making everyone play along.”

“You are _literally_ the devil’s advocate,” Alex mutters, wondering how the hell her life went from power-hungry warlocks and bloodthirsty lower demons to all-knowing teenage boys and the closest thing to the Devil himself there is.

“As well as his son, it would seem,” Strand says quietly, eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the shop’s window.

She can’t think of a single thing to say to someone who’s just had their entire world turned upside down, someone she’s only known for six months and knows so little about. Cora should be here; she’d know what to say – or what _not_ to say, at least.

Before she can ask Strand if he wants her to call Cora, he abruptly gets out of the chair and clears his throat. “I’m sorry for doing this so last-minute, but can we reschedule lunch for some other day?”

A tiny part of her is actually relieved; it’s far outweighed by the parts of her that don’t think he should be alone or left to his own thoughts, but it’s there nonetheless. “Um… sure. But are you going to be o-”

“I’ll see you next week,” Strand says in lieu of a goodbye, and the fact that he shimmers away instead of walking out of the shop only makes her even more worried.

Alex eyes the empty jars next to her with disdain. Now that she has no lunch plans, it looks like she’s back on tea prep duty for the rest of the afternoon.

 

 

 

Cora drops by later that evening, just as Alex is about to call it a day.

“Is this a bad time?” She asks, eyeing the pile of coat and bag and books in Alex’s arms.

“No, not at all!” Alex says quickly, setting everything down on the counter. “The only thing I’ve got waiting for me at home is a takeout menu. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing urgent,” Cora assures her. “Just thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing, maybe catch up a bit, trade notes on Richard and how he’s taking this whole Source thing…”

Alex grimaces at the reminder. “Yeah, I was hoping to talk to you about that. Have you seen him today?”

“For five minutes, maybe less,” The Whitelighter shrugs. “He showed up unannounced at Charlie’s place and told us that she’s most likely the granddaughter of the Source, then excused himself before either of us could get a word in.”

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?”

Cora sighs. “I honestly have no idea how this will play out. Even after he started sharing details about his old life, Richard never brought up his family – not even once. I used to find myself wide awake at night, wondering just how horrible my in-laws could be. I didn’t even know that he’d yet to figure out who his parents were until a week before I was killed.”

“That’s rough,” Alex winces – whether at Cora’s situation or her own inadequate reply, she can’t tell.

“It was par for the course in our marriage, really,” Cora comments nonchalantly. “Even if Thomas Warren hadn’t taken it upon himself to turn Richard into a widower, I doubt we would have stayed together any longer than we needed to for Charlie.”

Alex tries to resist the urge to pry – she really, really does. But these people are her friends and she’s curious by nature and she’s a trained _journalist_ , for crying out loud. “I didn’t realize,” She says carefully, keeping her eyes focused on the books she’s arranging into a neat stack. “Despite how little there actually is about him online, the one thing everyone seems to agree on is that Strand was devastated when you died.”

The Whitelighter blinks. “Well, of course he was. I was his wife, and he loved me very much. I can’t imagine the kind of broken wreck I’d have turned into if our roles had been reversed.”

“But you just said…”

“Alex,” Cora’s lips curve into a faint echo of her usual smile. “You don’t necessarily leave someone because you’ve fallen out of love with them. In my case, I’d fallen out of love with our life together and our uncertain future. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love Richard up until the second my heart stopped beating – and maybe even for a while longer after that. But there’s no way we would have stayed together till death do us part… mostly because Richard had no plans to die back when we were together.”

“Wait a minute,” Alex furrows her brow. “When I met Strand, he told me he’d been considering giving up his powers and becoming mortal. Are you telling me that he had no intention of doing that even back when he had a mortal wife and daughter?

Cora shakes her head ruefully. “Unfortunately, Richard wouldn’t even hear of it. He said he had too many enemies to knowingly put us in a situation where he’d be unable to defend our family. I used to think it was just an excuse, and that what he really meant was that he cared more about his power and immortality than he did about us, that we were just a fleeting, mortal chapter in his long, long life.”

After six months of getting to know Strand, Alex can’t even begin to picture the version of him Cora is painting. But then again, people _do_ change – even demons, probably.

“But that wouldn’t be an issue anymore, would it?”

“Hmm?” Cora looks up from her watch with the beginnings of a frown tugging at her lips. “What do you mean?”

“You’re immortal now,” Alex points out. “And so is Strand. It all works out.”

Cora tilts her head and pins Alex with a questioning look until comprehension dawns upon her features. “Since when are you into matchmaking? And why are you so set on me and Richard getting back together when I have it on good authority that there’s something brewing between the two of you?”

“Nic is _not_ ‘good authority’,” Alex huffs with a roll of her eyes. “And… it’s just…” Cora crosses her arms and nods as if to say _go on_ , and so she reluctantly adds, “You’re immortal and forever young, he’s immortal and forever young… ish. You two just make so much more sense together.”

“Oh, Alex,” Cora sighs, her features softening as she closes the distance between her and her charge to take Alex’s hands in her own. “Love doesn’t have to make sense. In my experience, it rarely does.”

Alex pointedly avoids eye contact. “I like it better when things make sense,” She mutters almost petulantly, because in a world where things made sense there’s no way a witch and a demon would have developed a friendship in the first place, let alone this weird, vulnerable closeness she shares with Strand.

“If I weren’t running late for dinner with Charlie and her girlfriend, I’d talk some _real_ sense into you,” Cora says, sounding every bit like a threatening mom about to slip into lecture mode. “We’ll talk about this again some other time, that’s for sure,” She declares as she lets go of Alex’s hands and steps back.

“To be continued, young lady,” Cora warns her as she orbs away, and Alex doesn’t know whether to laugh at the fact that the Whitelighter is eternally frozen at an age not much older than her own or to cry at the sudden reminder of her own mother and all the times she’s said the exact same thing to Alex.

“ _Not_ ,” She mutters for her own satisfaction, even though Cora’s long gone and won’t be able to hear her childish retort anyway.

 

 

 

Some part of Alex’s brain dimly registers the fact that MK’s been visiting them awfully often as the younger witch parks her car in front of the shop and pushes past the door. 

“Hey, Alex,” MK says with a distracted wave as she walks past the new display Alex is working on, heading straight for the back. “Pack up the kitchen and take off your apron, Nic. I didn’t drive all the way here just to – oh.”

“Yeah, he’s not here,” Alex fights against the wince trying to form on her face; you never quite know how MK is going to react to your reactions or interpret your facial expressions. “It’s been a crazy week around here; I don’t think Nic even knows what day it is anymore.”

MK snorts as she throws herself into the chair behind the counter. “Alex, you don’t have to make up excuses for him. He forgot. It’s Nic - he’d forget his own damn name if he didn’t hear it for a day.”

“That… isprobably true,” She concedes after a moment’s thought. “He’s out with Amalia. I think they said something about a bookshop.”

“They’re really hitting it off, aren’t they?” MK asks, removing her backpack and setting it down on the floor.

Alex shrugs. “Amalia _was_ really close to Nic as a cat, so I guess it’s not a surprise.”

“God, that’s still so fucking weird.”

“Is it sad that our cat turning into a human and becoming best friends with Nic isn’t even the weirdest thing in my life? Like, not even close,” Alex sighs as she abandons the display for now and joins MK at the counter. They really should get more chairs here, now that it’s gone from being just Alex and Nic to being… whatever it is their wacky group of people can be called.

“Tell me about it,” MK huffs. “The week I found out I was a witch, we managed to get our hands on a bunch of buried records about old government experiments. Being able to see the future was nothing compared to some of the shit those people were trying to do.”

“How _did_ that go down?” Alex wonders out loud before hurrying to add, “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

MK actually looks surprised. “Wait, Nic never told you?”

Alex hops up on the counter and begins sifting through the takeout menus she’d left there earlier. “I think I asked once, but he said it wasn’t his to tell. I know he can be a bit of a gossip,” She admits at MK’s look of disbelief, “but Nic’s actually pretty good at keeping secrets when he feels like they should be kept.”

“I guess he’s not too bad after all,” MK mutters. “Anyway, this is kinda related to what I wanted to talk to you about so yeah, I guess I can tell you. It was around four years ago, and we’d been working around the clock to get those files I talked about. I’d been getting so little sleep that I would just doze off without realizing, which is what I thought happened the first time I had a vision. It was more like a nightmare, anyway.”

She keeps talking, but her hands busy themselves by taking a laptop out of her backpack. “I saw my best friend dying in a car crash – a really bad, really bloody one. I didn’t think much of it, because… like I said, I hadn’t been getting much sleep. Plus some of those experiment logs were pretty messed up, so I thought my subconscious was just being a dick. Three days later, the accident happened right in front of me.”

“Oh my god,” Alex whispers. “That’s a horrible way to find out. MK, I’m so sorry-”

“It is what it is,” MK shrugs. “Do I wish I’d had a vision of the winning lottery numbers or the president’s personal password instead? Sure. Do I wish someone had told me _hey MK, someday you’re gonna see the future and you should probably use that to avoid your best friend’s death_? Um, yeah. But fucked-up shit happens all the time so… ” She falters, unable to dismiss her experience as easily as she’d probably like to. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve never really wanted any part in this. I didn’t want front row seats to another vision coming true.”

Alex rushes to reassure her. “That’s totally okay. You’ve already been such a huge help to us, and you do way more than you need to-”

“Yeah, but I do way less than I can. Look, it’s been four years and even if I’m not totally over it, I should at least try to move on,” MK reasons. “I’m ready to get witchy, is what I’m trying to say here. Teach me about spells and potions and shit, give me a history lesson or two. It’s kinda driving me nuts that I can’t figure out where this thing came from.”

An unfounded pang of guilt seizes Alex’s heart. She comes from a long line of witches, all of whom have had the privilege of passing down their knowledge and preparing their children for their own abilities. MK had been abandoned at birth and was never adopted, bouncing from one foster home to another until she ran away at age fourteen and joined a group of… information specialists. Even if her first vision hadn’t been a total nightmare, finding out that magic is real and she has it would still have been a jarring experience.

There’s not much Alex can do about that now, but at least she can give MK what she’s asking for. “Okay, a couple of history and spell work lessons coming right up. But first,” She holds up the stack of menus in her hands. “Lunch?”

“Might as well,” MK sighs, getting up to reach for the menus, “since Nic’s ruined my plan of torturing him with the hottest curry in the city for lunch.”

They eventually settle on an Indian place nearby; after a quick look at the time, Alex makes sure to order enough for Amalia and Nic as well, since they’ve been gone all morning and should be back soon.

“So I’ll finally get to meet Amalia, huh?” MK asks as she helps with hanging up a banner in the window, easily accomplishing it without the step stool Alex can’t seem to find anywhere. “What’s she like?”

“Kinda intimidating, to be honest,” Alex admits with a nervous laugh. “I always knew she was pretty wise – she’s lived for centuries, after all – but she knows _a lot_. Sometimes she’s got more information than the Book of Shadows, which is insane. And she’s powerful too, because of the age thing.”

MK drops one end of the banner. “Wait, we get more powerful as we age?”

“Yeah, that’s why warlocks are so obsessed with feeding off our life force,” Alex explains with a frown. “I thought Nic told you. Maybe leaving him in charge of your Intro to Witchery 101 wasn’t a good idea,” She realizes about three years too late.

“No shit, Sherlock,” MK scoffs as she secures the banner and steps back from the window. “The guy’s so scatterbrained that-”

 It takes Alex a second to realize that MK’s sudden silence is because Nic and Amalia have rounded the corner and are now approaching the shop. It takes her a second longer to realize that MK – cool, unflappable MK – is gaping at Amalia.

“Holy fuck, I think I have a crush.”

 

 

 

Two nights later, there’s an unexpected knock on Alex’s door.

“Oh,” She says when the door opens to reveal Strand with a pizza box in his hands, motioning for him to come in. “How are you?” The question seems lame as soon as she asks it, but it’s out there now.

“I’ve been… all right,” Strand decides after a pause, making Alex think that maybe the question wasn’t so pointless after all. “I brought dinner,” He says rather unnecessarily, holding out the box to Alex. “To make up for lunch the other day.”

“Hey, thanks,” Alex kicks the door shut behind her and leads Strand to the kitchen. “I just got home and wasn’t sure what to do for dinner, anyway,” She explains, feeling an unusual urge to fill the silence between them. They haven’t spoken since the day Simon showed up, and she’s still dealing with a misplaced sense of guilt for having been made privy to such personal information. The fact that she has no idea why he’s here makes her all the more awkward, even though it’s not unheard of for Strand to swing by with dinner every once in a blue moon.

Maybe it’s just that throughout all of his previous visits, she’s never been so acutely aware of how odd it is for them to have dinner on their own in her apartment. Friends do that, right? It’s been a while since she was part of an active, normal friendship, but Alex vaguely remembers stuff like this from college. So why is it that she keeps thinking of what Cora and the others have been saying about her and Strand?

In the time it’s taken for her to retrieve some napkins, Strand’s taken out two glasses, poured them both some of the cheap wine she must’ve left in her fridge a few days ago, and helped himself to a plate and a set of flatware because of course Richard Strand, Son of All Evil, eats pizza with a fork and knife.

“So...” Alex asks after a few uncomfortably silent bites of pizza. “What’s up?”

“In light of… recent developments, I’ve been doing some research,” Strand reveals. “And it reminded me of a story I thought you might be interested in hearing.”

“I’m always up for a good story,” She shrugs, helping herself to a second slice.

“Are you familiar with the origin story of the Source and all demons?”

It takes her a while to search her memory for the story she knows her mother must have told her at some point. “It’s something about Evil and Chaos, right? How Chaos agreed to give physical form to her subjects and let Evil infuse them with a sense of purpose, thus creating the first demons?”

“That’s the one,” Strand says with a smile, and she can’t help feeling like the teacher’s pet who just earned a gold star. Maybe this thing with Strand is just some delayed form of displacement, a lingering remnant of the crush she’d had on one of her professors back in college.

Or maybe she’s just really, really good at denial and bullshit.

“Everyone knows about the story of Evil and Chaos, but some claim there’s another part to it. That in order to seal the deal, so to speak, Evil and Chaos created something far more permanent that would keep them bound to each other for all eternity, so that neither of them could back out of the deal. If Chaos were to renege, Evil would lose all of his loyal servants as they returned to the void. On the other hand, if Evil decided to retire someday, Chaos would have empty, purposeless vessels longing to spread unrest and disorder, but not possessing the drive and sentience to do so.”

The story has been passed down for at least twenty generations in her family, so she supposes it’s possible that parts of it might have been lost over time. But still, this doesn’t sound like the kind of insignificant detail any witch would choose to omit. “What was it?” Alex asks. “The thing Evil and Chaos created?”

“Not a thing,” Strand corrects, pushing aside his plate. “A child.”

Alex is really, really glad she decided to hold off on the pizza until after Strand had spoken, because she’s pretty sure she’d be choking right now otherwise.

“ _You_?”

“I have reason to suspect that it might be me, yes,” Strand says calmly, as if he isn’t possibly the offspring of the very manifestation of Evil and Chaos themselves. “But there’s only one way to know for sure.”

“You can’t possibly mean-” Her mouth feels dry, her head is spinning, and it feels like someone just threw a rock down her throat because there’s something really, really heavy in her gut.

“I’m going to confront the Source.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have enough backstory for a 50,000-word epic but barely enough time and attention span for a three-chapter fic. Ah, well. Next chapter's the last one; I'll see you guys on the other side.
> 
> Comments? Questions? Entirely unrelated and random thoughts you'd like to share with the class? I'll happily take 'em all!


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